


Connor's Mutual

by owlsCbooks



Category: Dear Evan Hansen, deh, deh book, deh musical
Genre: death tw, suicide TW
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27711655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlsCbooks/pseuds/owlsCbooks
Summary: Connor Murphy was a seventeen year old boy who killed himself.Aloe is 16. They never met Connor in real life. They only knew each other on the internet. Eventually they connect the dots and find out their friend is dead.(I'm bad at summaries o.O)
Relationships: Miguel/Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1: Before

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiii reader. Whether you saw the link on Tumblr or Discord, or you stumbled upon this fic... Well, enjoy. Updates might be weird, so sorry about that.
> 
> Remember that you matter to people, even if you don't know. :)
> 
> And to my online friends who may or may not be reading this, it would be the end of the freaking world to me if anything happened to you. So. Yeah.
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Love, Cody

_Hey dude whats up?_

**1 Day Before**

My friend, well, Tumblr mutual, Connor, hasn’t been online at all today. Which is weird. He’s been a bit more… distant lately, but usually he at least reblogs one of my posts, or posts about something his sister did. It was weird to see no activity. Even so, I reblog a few posts, spam a few 1 Note 1 Days, and eventually DM Connor.

Me and Connor have been mutuals forever. Well, since I was 12 and first got Tumblr. He was 13. I have a lot of mutuals, and I’m close-ish with a lot of them, but Connor’s my oldest friend on here. I know I’ll never meet Connor in real life. In a weird way, he knows both everything and nothing about me. He knows basically what I look like, since my icon’s a picrew. He knows what timezone I’m in. He knows my height, age, and birthday. He knows my favorite clothes, all about my dog, all about the tiny things that happen to me. He doesn’t know where I live. He doesn’t know my last name or my deadname. He doesn’t know the names of anyone in my family, the name of my school, or the names of any of my real life friends.

But he’s Connor, and usually I can count on seeing him on my dash. It’s nothing, I tell myself. And I go to school, come home, do my homework, eat dinner, watch TV, and more. I don’t give Connor a second thought. But deep down inside, there’s a little voice whispering about Connor. About what he’s tried to do before.

**6 Hours Before**

Still nothing.


	2. 1 Day After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. So this chapter has a serious trigger warning for suicide. I know you probably guessed already, but I wanted to give you one last chance. Also some colorful language, so beware of that too =) Love ya. ~The author
> 
> (P.S. I may or may not have switched to past tense here. I honestly don't know and I'm too lazy to check. So just ignore that.)

_Connor? Your boyfriend told me you killed yourself... Connor, please answer me I'm getting nervous._

The first time I talked Connor out of suicide, I was twelve. I never told anyone. 

He had just turned fourteen. He was struggling. He said his dad would tell him he was just seeking attention. He didn't have friends in real life. I begged him not to. He listened.

This happened again later that year. And again when he was fifteen. He did it for me once or twice, too. He was doing pretty well for awhile, until I found out he'd been doing... bad stuff.

_Drugs, Connor? Fucking crack?_

_Yes, Aloe, will you calm down?_

_I'm very calm. I don't care what you do, just... promise me you aren't going too wild._

_What the hell?_

_It's not like I've never done any drugs, Connor. I'm 15, not 8._

_Really? I didn't know you had it in you lmao_

_At a party. Once._

_YOU??? :DDDD_

_Shut up_

_Who would've thought little angel Aloe was such a stoner._

_I DID IT ONCE. AND I HATED IT. Anyway, just stay in control of how much you're smoking and shit, ok? That's how people get addicted._

I grinned and put my phone away. 

It was all fun and games til his parents sent him to rehab. 

I was scrolling through my dash at my locker on the day after Connor killed himself when I saw that I had a new notification. Someone had tagged me in something. I opened it up. It was Connor's boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, whatever. Connor hadn't been keeping me in the loop lately. Suddenly I got that gut feeling you get. Like when you know something bad's going to happen. Steeling myself, I scrolled to the post. Miguel had tagged me and a few other people in one of his own posts. Miguel and I weren't close, but we followed each other with Connor as a mutual relationship. He must've known I'd want to know.

_Last night [Connor's username] killed himself. He won't be active anymore, and I also won't for awhile._

Suddenly everything's underwater. Somehow I get home. Somehow I get to my bed. Somehow I turn on some music.

Connor's gone. I wasn't enough this time.

Connor's gone forever and there's nothing I can do.


	3. DMs to Connor

_Hi Connor._

_You finally did it, didn't you._

_Fuck you._

_What am I supposed to do now?_

_You could've talked to me._

_You could've talked to anyone on this hellsite._

_I know it's not your fault._

_I don't know if it's mine._

_Was I not good enough this time?_

_Why am I DMing you?_

_It's not like you're going to answer._

_Not this time._

_I miss you._

_Please tell me this is a joke._

_A really, not funny joke._

_Really not funny._

_Connor._

_Please._

_What am I supposed to do without your posts on my dash?_

_You saved my life, Connor._

_I don't even know if you knew._

_I never knew you IRL._

_I never would've._

_What makes someone a friend?_

_Am I even allowed to be this sad?_

This pissed at you?

I shouldn't be pissed.

You're...

_I don't care._

_Connor..._

_Why did you do this?_


	4. Alana

It's been a few weeks since Connor died, and this thing called The Connor Project's been all over my dash. I don't need to be Sherlock to figure out it's about Connor.

Connor's full name was Connor Murphy. He was 17, just like he said. He lived kind of far away from me, probably a few hours' drive. He looked a lot like his most recent picrew. Or, at least, the picture of him did.

The Connor Project has a Tumblr account. Apparently whoever's running it snooped through Connor's blog and found my @ somewhere. They're up in my dm's 2 days later.

_@theconnorproject: Hello. You were friends with Connor Murphy, right?_

_You: I didn't know him IRL. We were friends on the internet, but we were pretty close, yeah._

_@theconnorproject: Hello. My name's Alana Beck and I'm Co-President of the Connor Project. My pronouns are she/her. You?_

_You: I'm Aloe. They/Them. Who's president, Miguel?_

_@theconnorproject: Evan Hansen._

_You: The guy who made the speech?_

_@theconnorproject: Exactly. Did Connor ever talk about Evan?_

_You: On Tumblr? No. It's weird, people talk about everything on Tumblr._

_@theconnorproject: Nobody knew about Evan. He didn't tell anybody._

_You: His Tumblr was also a secret. I don't know, though. He hasn't been talking to me much lately._

_You: **Hadn't_

_@theconnorproject: Would you like to be added to our tag list?_

_You: Sure._ I owe it to Connor to learn about him. To learn about the person behind my phone screen who lived. Who walked and talked and went to school and had friends, family, a life I didn't know about. The Connor I couldn't save, the Connor nobody could save.


	5. Indigo

_Hi Connor. Been awhile. Everything still sucks._

I still haven't really been reblogging things on Tumblr. I've only reblogged suicide helplines and DMed Connor. All my other online friends I talk to on Discord. Even then, I haven't talked to them a lot. Until Indigo messages me.

_Indigoskies: Hey_

_You: Hey._

_Indigoskies: How are you?_

_You: Fine._

_Indigoskies: Wanna talk about it?_

Indigo and I actually met on a Discord server when I was 14, and are mostly friends on here. She's 15, one year younger than me. She didn't know Connor, but I told the main server I'm on that one of my oldest online friends died. 

_You: It's weird. I only knew him on Tumblr. It's not like we grew up together or anything. I didn't really know the person behind the screen. I guess I just don't know how sad I should be._

_Indigoskies: Yeah, I totally get that._

_You: It's hard, though, because he was an important part of... my life I guess. If something went wrong IRL I'd talk to someone IRL. But... then again I kinda grew up with Tumblr. Connor was my 10th follower. He was one of the first people to use Aloe and they/them for me. He would fight TERFs. We DMed when I got my first anon hate. We would only dm like once a month usually, to be honest._

_Indigoskies: Yeah._

_You: We weren't even that close. We weren't best friends or anything. But... it sucks not seeing him on my dash anymore. I guess that brings us back to the question: are online friends real friends?_

_Indigoskies: Connor was important to you. It's perfectly understandable that you'd be sad that he's gone._

_You: I guess. But there was a living, breathing person behind that phone screen. A person I never knew. I'm stuck. Connor was important to me, but it's not like someone I knew IRL died._

_Indigoskies: It's hard._

_You: I just don't know._

_Indigoskies: Well... you have to just let yourself feel whatever you're feeling._

_You: Yeah._

_Indigoskies: I have to get to class. See you?_

_You: See you._


	6. DMing Connor, Part 2

_Connor, you dumbass._

_Why?_

_I'm seeing the Connor Project stuff all over my dash._

_You had friends._

_You had a sister._

_Your parents... are devastated._

_You had Miguel._

_You had your mutuals._

_You had me._

_When you do something like that, it doesn't happen to you. It happens to the people around you, Connor._

_It happened to me._

_And now I'm confused. I don't know how I should be feeling._

_I don't know what you were to me._

_I don't even know how to tell people what I'm going through, if I'm going through anything at all._

_I don't know if things would've worked out with your dad._

_But you... lived._

_You were a living, breathing person on the other side of my phone screen._

_You could've grown up, gone to college or even just sold weed for a living._

_And now you're gone. And everything sucks._


	7. The Connor Project

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing to do so I'm updating this shitty fanfic.

Out of curiosity, I Googled the Connor Project. Pulling a sheet of paper out of my desk drawer, I write down the important stuff.

Connor Murphy

Parents: Cynthia Murphy, Larry Murphy

Sister: Zoe Murphy

~~Best Friend~~ President of Connor Project: Evan Hansen

I pause. I am a little surprised Connor never posted about Evan. He usually posted about Miguel, when he posted about other people at all. Or he used to. It had been awhile since I'd seen anything about Miguel. Every once in awhile he'd post about someone else, like his sister, or someone he met at school, or his therapist. But he never mentioned an Evan, or a best friend. Neither did Miguel. I read on.

Connor and Evan kept relationship secret??? Even from Miguel???

That was weird. Connor usually said online what he didn't tell his parents. Like when he found out he was bi and all that. Or when he snuck into the liquor cabinet. But I guessed I had no way of knowing how much I really knew about Connor, and besides, Miguel followed his Tumblr. Or, he probably did. I wasn't so sure anymore. 

Donate to apple orchard (for Connor Project)

I couldn't donate, since I was broke and my moms didn't know about Connor, so I couldn't hit them up for money. But I reblogged the Tumblr post about it, and sent the link to a few Discord servers.

The kid who seemed to be mostly in charge of the Connor Project was this girl named Alana Beck, who I'd DMed with. She knew Connor, but they weren't close friends. Scrolling back through Connor's blog to years ago, I could see there were posts about her. Not her by name, but things like 'The girl I'm working with on abc,' et cetera. They definitely weren't friends, but I could at least verify that she existed. Which made it even weirder that Evan wasn't mentioned at all. Not even a subtle nod towards him.

I told myself not to worry about it, but it still stung that I never knew. It shouldn't have, but it still did.


	8. Tumblr dot com

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been forever, sorry lol. If anyone's reading this. Anyway, hiiiii.

Why was I so upset? It wasn't like someone I knew IRL had died. I'd talked to Connor once in a blue moon. I'd see him on my dash every day, but that was it. I kinda felt bad about it, in more ways than one. My life was still moving forward, and a person had _died_. I mean, people died all the time, but you know... I also felt bad. Who was I to mourn this random kid? I wasn't Miguel, or Alana, or Evan. I was just me, a kid sitting on my bed with a laptop in New Jersey. Me. Aloe.

I guess Connor was just a constant. Even if my cat died, or I got a bad grade on a test, he was still on my dash posting memes or complaining about his family. Had been for years. Since I started on the internet, really. And it was hard to imagine Tumblr without him. 

Indigo said it was natural to be sad, and I guess she's right. Connor was a part of my life, and now he's gone. 

The first time I was suicidal, I was fourteen. Someone, a lot of someones, had stuck sticky notes with the t slur on them in my locker. Even though my moms are lesbians, I wasn't sure if they were exclusionists or not (spoiler alert: they're not.) I was terrified to come out. Long story short: I felt stuck. I decided to try a one-note-one-day post. Five minutes later, fifteen year old Connor was in my dms and askbox. I'd talked him out of ending it a few times, but this was the first time he'd done it for me. It took awhile, but things got better. And they might not have without Connor. I was usually able to do the same for him, but I guess at one point it wasn't enough. 

Why was I blaming myself anyway? I didn't know.

It's late. Again. I've been having trouble sleeping. I grab my phone and open up Tumblr. For the first time, I make a post about what happened. 

**Hey guys.**

**I don't know if you know this, but one of my old mutuals, [Connor's @] killed himself a little while ago. About a week. You can learn about him at @theconnorproject. That's why I haven't been posting.**

**We'd been online friends for about 4 years. We've both struggled with suicide before, him more than me obviously. He was also depressed, and probably had some other problems.**

**But anyway, I've been kind of having a hard time with this. We never met IRL, we just communicated on Tumblr for a few years. So I just wanted to let you know. That's why I haven't been active. I probably have a full askbox right now.**

**I just also wanted to let you all know that you matter to someone. Even if you don't know it.**

Around 2am, Miguel had dmed me his Discord. I sent a friend request. He accepted pretty quickly. And then he asked if we could videochat. I knew he was in the same timezone as me, but I still accepted. I really hoped he was my age.

I watched Miguel's expression closely as he saw me for the first time. Something Connor never got to do. I'm not overly insecure about my appearance. Fluffy, short blue hair. Boring black glasses. Sometimes I wear earrings, but not right now. I'm wearing my favorite hoodie, which is covered in patches. Pride flags, various characters, and a few that say EAT THE RICH and other anti-capitalist messages. Freckles. 

"So," Miguel says. "You're Aloe."

"Yep," I say. "And you're Miguel."

"Yep."

Silence for a minute.

"I'm really sorry about Connor," I finally say awkwardly. My voice cracks on Connor's name, but I ignore it.

"Thanks. Me, too," Miguel says. We just sit there for a minutes. 

"Did you know about Evan?" I ask. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm wondering why he kept it a secret." Miguel frowned.

"I didn't. I don't know either." Miguel sounds a little hurt, but he shrugs. "At least Connor had a friend." 

I'm silent. Miguel continues.

"And they must've been pretty close." Miguel's voice cracks. We both sit there for a minute.

"How are you?" he asks me.

"I'm fine," I say. "I'm sorry, I guess. I mean, I can't imagine how you're feeling. Or Alana, or Evan, or his sister... Zoe, right?"

"Zoe," Miguel confirms quietly.

"But he was still a part of my life, and he was there for me I guess." I'm quiet for a second. "He talked me out of... committing a few times. Same there. I also feel pretty guilty I couldn't stop him this time, and then I feel guilty for feeling guilty. It's complicated I guess."

"You don't have to apologize," Miguel says. He takes a deep breath. "To be honest, Aloe... You aren't the only one with complicated feelings about Connor. Except other peoples' aren't complicated the way yours are." I shiver. There's a window open and I can see my breath in the cold fall air.

"Really?" I whisper.

"Connor... was a difficult person to get along with. He was awful to Zoe. He pushed Evan the day before he, um, did it. I don't know if you know this but he spent a while in rehab."

"I know," I breathe. I don't think Miguel can hear me, but I don't think he's paying attention. "I know." 

"He'd go to school high, or just skip. He also did, um, stuff to himself. I think. Off Tumblr he could be a whole different person." My throat feels funny, like I'm about to start crying. Maybe I am.

"I still miss him though." Miguel finishes quietly. He sniffs.

"Me too."

We sit together on the call until I hear one of my moms up making coffee.


	9. About Connor

I couldn't stop thinking about what Miguel had told me about Connor. 

For years I'd had this one idea of him in my head. Of the guy he was on Tumblr. Struggling a lot, but still a good person. I mean, it's true that nobody posts the worst parts of themselves online. At least on Tumblr, it was usually the good and the weird. I knew the good. I knew the weird. I knew the bad things that happened to him. But at the end of the day, did I know Connor? I decided to talk to one of the people who knew him in real life. On the Connor Project website.

 _You (9:56 am): Hi. If you're not too busy, would you mind telling me about what Connor was like in real life? The bad stuff, too. I want to know. If it's not Alana, my name's Aloe, Connor and I were_ -I hesitate- _online friends. My name's Aloe._

_Connor Project (2:09 pm): Hi. We've been backed up lately. A lot of people._

_Connor Project: Sorry about that._

_You: It's fine._

_Connor Project: You sure you want to know?_

I take a deep breath.

_You: I'm sure. Did you know him in real life?_

_Connor Project: Yep, sure did. We weren't friends but I knew him alright._

_Connor Project: Wait, how do I know you aren't a murderer? Or some 50 year old man chatting up young boys on the internet when they're emotionally vulnerable?_

_You: I'm not asking for private information! I just want to know what he was like._

_You: I'm 15._

_Connor Project: Boy or girl?_

_You: Neither._

_Connor Project: K._

_Connor Project: Well, Connor was a stoner for one._

_You: I know that._

_Connor Project: Uh... he was a little weird, y'know? Like, all the teachers hated him. Wore big bracelets for some reason. Pushed people. Had really long hair. A major loner._

_Connor Project: I didn't know him that well, though. I just went to school with him._

_Connor Project: And then I called him a freak and he killed himself._

_Connor Project: Shit._

_Connor Project: Oops I guess._

_You: Who are you, anyway?_

_Connor Project: Stalker. I'm Jared. I run the website._

_You: Well, bye Jared._

_Connor Project: Bye._

This Jared guy was not particularly helpful. I sigh and flop down on my bed, then sit up when I hear a Discord alert. I check it.

**Hey Aloe. Sorry to bother you, but have you read the emails that they posted? The ones between Connor and Evan? Some of them don't add up.**

**No, I haven't yet.** Miguel sends me a few screenshots, specifically of the ones that don't make sense. There are also a few date/time timestamps.

 **See, here it says they only went to Ellison part once, but here it says they went all the time. And see this timestamp? He was with me then.** A pause. **It was before we stopped talking.** I sense not to pry about that. 

**There are also a lot that happened over the summer, and that's around when he stopped posting on Tumblr. And all he talks about is how he's getting better and all that.** I take a deep breath and a sip of week-old faucet water from my dresser. **I don't think he was.**

 **I don't** **either.** Miguel answers after a minute. **What do you think it means?**

 **I have no** **idea.** **I don't think I knew Connor as well as I thought I did, but I think I know him well enough to know that this isn't what he sounds like when he types.**

 **It's definitely not.** Miguel agreed. **I have to go. Talk to you later?**

**Talk to you later.**

I decided to read through the rest of the emails. They were all very similar, Connor and Evan hanging out, Connor and Evan talking about trees, Connor 'getting better.' The time/date stamps contradicted what Miguel and I thought Connor was doing, which didn't mean a lot, but combined with everything else it was a little weird. And I knew how easy it was to fake emails, I'd done it myself.

**Hey Miguel. This is going to sound crazy, but I don't think Evan is totally telling the truth.**


	10. Friends

"I mean, there were a variety of reasons Evan could've faked the letters," I say. "Survivors guilt, for one."

"Maybe..." Miguel answered. 

"Connor could've made him," I said. "Wanted to, I don't know, prove he had friends or something."

"You really think Connor would do that?" Miguel asked.

"I don't know."

"I really hope we're overreacting here," he said quietly. "I really hope he wasn't alone for that long. How long has it been since you two really talked?"

"A long time. Probably not since the spring of my sophomore year. I'm a junior now. He hadn't really interacted with my posts a whole lot for a while before... y'know..." Miguel nodded.

"I wasn't talking to him then either. I messaged a few of his other mutuals, and nobody else has been talking to him either. Most people didn't really talk to him either, but he'd reblog their posts, and he hasn't been doing that either."

We let that sink in. That means that as far as we know, Connor had been pretty much on his own for months now. Unless Evan was telling the truth.

"I don't think anyone would lie about something like that," I eventually said. "Not about being the only friend of a kid who... I just don't think he'd lie about that. Plus, Connor's name IS on his cast. Yeah, it doesn't look like his handwriting, but have you ever tried to write on a cast?"

"It's hard," Miguel agreed. "Ok, yeah."

"He had someone there for him." He had to. 

"I have to get to school," Miguel said. "Talk to you later?"

"Talk to you later." We ended the call.

I definitely had a few doubts. Ok, more than a few. But I thought of Connor without a single friend or family member he was remotely close to and squished them down. I didn't know him that well, anyway. Who was I to second-guess Evan?

I still had about 2 hours before I had to get up for the day. I glanced at my notifications and then look backed and stared. That many? Really? And that many asks?

Almost all of my notifications were on my post about Connor.

_I'm so sorry._

_We were mutuals, but we never talked._

_I lost my partner back in April, it hurts a lot._

_For every reblog this gets, I'll donate $1 to The Connor Project._

_They're making an apple orchard in his memory._

I opened up my askbox. A TON of asks were in there.

_You were friends with Connor Murphy?_

_Lmk if you want to talk._

_Love your blog._

Some less nice ones.

_Stop faking dead friends for clout._

_Fuck you._

_Go kill yourself like your 'friend.'_

And a few random ones.

_Cheese._

_I feel like you smell like pizza._

_Do you like pandas?_

I respond to a few. I report the nasty ones. And then I answer the ones about cheese and what I smell like and pandas. Cuz hey, growth. My first non-Connor post in awhile, I realized.

I opened my dms with Connor. They matched the theme of his blog, which was a dark gray with blurry strip cloudy night sky at the top of the box thing.

_Hey Connor._

_I'm sort of moving on, I guess. I mean, I think about other things sometimes._

_Not that I'm forgetting you._

_Far from it._

_I never knew you that well, but you've become even more of a mystery._

_Were you a good person?_

_Were you friends with this kid?_

_Miguel said a lot of stuff about you._

_Yeah, we talked. About you._

_I guess I didn't know you that well, huh._

_I mean, we were online friends. Nobody says the worst about themselves online._

_I've been trying to learn more about you. The good, the bad, and the ugly._

_I can't tell what's true and what isn't, though._

_Where do you end and other people begin?_


	11. Mental Health Day

I'm sitting at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal while my dog, Nova, sits at my feet. I glance at the clock. I have to leave in ten minutes if I want to be ready for school on time. My mom, Mom Em, is looking through the fridge, with her phone on as loud as it can go. Is it just my moms that always have their phones on as loud and bright as possible? I hear snips of sound from a variety of videos, and then nearly fall out of my chair when she settles on one for more than five seconds. It's Evan's speech. My mom must realize I've stopped eating, or just mom intuition or whatever, because she turns around and looks like me.

"You ok, Aloe?" she asks. "You look like you've seen a ghost." And for a second I'm incredibly close to telling her everything. How I've been talking to the kid who's been all over the news for years now. How I'm not sure if Evan's telling the truth. How I'm lonely, sad, and maybe a little scared. But then I realize how much of a bad idea it is. As cool as my moms are, they're still parents. They probably won't be too fond of the idea that I've been talking to someone on the internet since I was twelve, or that that person's been to rehab, or some of what I've talked him out of. They might want to go through my Tumblr. And I've never told them about some of the stuff I've almost done. They don't need to know any of that.

"It's nothing; I'm fine," I tell her. "Seriously." She raises her eyebrow at me. 

"You're fine," she repeats dubiously.

"Yep, and I have to get to school, so... see you later." I grab my backpack and start to leave the kitchen, but she stops me.

"Do you want to stay home?" she asks me. I look at her in disbelief.

"What?"

"Do you want to stay home," she says again. "Mental health day. Just us two, or three if Mom S. can join us."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Wait," I ask suspiciously. "Are you going to make me 'talk about it' or whatever?" My mom sighs.

"Aloe, you're sixteen years old and in high school. I know there's a LOT you aren't telling me. And bugging you about it will probably only make it worse. So just promise me you'll tell me if you need anything, alright?"

"Um... alright."

"SARAH!" My other mom, aka Mom S. rushes down the stairs. 

"YEAH?" Her eyes move from me standing awkwardly holding my backpack, probably still looking spooked, and Mom Em holding the car keys and her purse.

"Mental health day. You in?"

"Of course. Just let me call in sick real quick, alright? Can you call Aloe's school?"

"Alright. Ice cream?"

"It's seven thirty, Em." 

My moms playfully argue like a wattpad fanfiction halfway to a coffee shop I like as I sit on pins and needles in the back. Mom S. turns around to face me from the passenger's seat, and my heart skips a beat.

"You're awfully quiet, Al." I shrug. "Wanna tell me what's up?"

"Not particularly." My moms look at each other, and have a Mom Conversation(tm) with their eyes. 

"Alrighty then."

The mental health day with my moms is awesome. We get cinnamon rolls at my favorite coffee shop, go to a bookstore and pick out a few books, and then hang out in a park until lunch. After lunch we go to an animal shelter to look at cats, since our old cat Charlie died last year. My moms agree that we can get a new one by my birthday in a few months, once we get our ready and can introduce the cat to Nova. We go to a store that sells plants, and I get a cactus and another Aloe Vera, my favorite plant. Then we do end up getting ice cream, and then go home and take Nova on a long walk together. For awhile I forget all about Connor and all that mess, which was probably Mom Em's plan. I feel a little guilty about that, but I push it down for now. I'm having fun, and so are my moms. And it's nice to just take a break once in awhile. So when I start to forget about Connor, about the emails, about the endless pile of homework I'll have waiting for me, I don't fight it.

"So did you have fun today?" Mom Em asks when we get home.

"Yeah," I say. "Thanks."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

I check my phone later that night and see a few discord messages from Miguel. The most recent one reads "Call me." Stomach churning, I click on his icon and hit "video chat." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! So if you're reading this as a finished piece, which would probably be a good while after I'm writing this, after this chapter would probably be a good place to take a break if you need to. So go drink some water, do some work, get some sleep, whatever you need to do! Because the next couple chapter are (hopefully) going to be a bit of a rollercoaster and it might be harder to stop there. Anyway, love you all!


	12. Evan Hansen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Just so you know, I've been editing the story overall a bit, so if you notice small changes that's what that is.

"Have you seen this?" Miguel asks. "Evan left the Connor Project."

"Why?" I ask. "Why would he do that?"

"Think about it, Aloe. We can't be the only ones who've noticed that something's up with the letters." 

"So you think someone... found him out?"

"Probably. Listen... I think we were right before. I think Evan wrote those letters after Connor... you know. Except maybe the first one? I heard they found it with Connor."

"And you think that Evan modeled them all after that one."

"Maybe..."

"Do you think Connor wrote the first one? Or did Evan?"

"I don't know. I have no idea." I check the clock. 2:25 am. I'm about four hours north of where Connor lived... I couldn't get home before my moms noticed I was gone but I could probably make it there in the car.

"Miguel, you live near where Connor lived, right?"

"Um... yeah, why?"

"I'm coming."

"You're _what?"_

"I'm coming. Driving. Yeah. I got my license a while ago, I think I can make it. Why don't we meet at Ellison in about... five-ish hours?"

"You sure about this, Aloe?"

"Absolutely." I was becoming more sure by the second. "Tomorrow's Saturday, there's no school so I won't miss any more."

"Any more?"

"I skipped with my moms today."

"Alright. Please drive safely."

"I'll try. See you soon." I hang up.

I stuff some clothes, my laptop, a charger, and $50 cash into a bag from the last couple times I babysat. Adrenaline and excitement rush through me, and I can hear my heartbeat in my otherwise silent, dark bedroom. As an afterthought, I grab a fidget toy and a stress ball, considering that I can expect to be very anxious on this trip. Tiptoeing downstairs with my phone and bag, I make sure to stick to areas near furniture where the floor is already settled. I grab the car keys, careful not to jingle them, and slip on my jacket. I open and close the front door quietly and step out into the night air, and then I'm free. 

The car's loud when I start it, but I drive away quickly and carefully and pray nobody heard. I can feel my hands sweating but choose to ignore it. I steel myself and focus on the road, where the car headlights cut into the darkness.

I don't stop until four am, where I pee and grab a few snacks at a gas station before hurrying back on the road. I'm racing the clock; I give myself two to four hours before my moms notice I'm gone, and five to maybe ten if I'm lucky before they call the police. Either way, I have less than twenty-four hours before there's an Amber alert or whatever happens when a sixteen year old drives away in the middle of the night, and I can't hide forever. Time's running out.

When I arrive at Ellison State Park, the sun's just peeking over the horizon, smudging the sky with baby blue. I check my phone. It's 7:35 am. I see a figure standing next to a sign that says the name of the park. Miguel. I break out into a run, my bag banging against my back. I stop a few feet away from him, panting. It's definitely Miguel. He's taller than he seemed over Discord calls.

"Hey," I pant. "I'm Aloe." I laugh humorlessly.

"I'm Miguel." He smiles a little sadly. "Um... care to clue me in?"

"No time," I check my phone again. "I have anywhere between one and eight hours before my moms call the police, and maybe twenty-four hours before they find me here. Let's move."

"Where are we going?" Miguel asks as I start towards my car. 

"No idea!" I answer. "Did you walk here?" He nods. I'm rarely this spontaneous, and Miguel probably senses that. He slides into the passenger's seat.

"Aloe, wait." I don't turn the keys yet. "Social media's blown up. People leaked the Murphy's address... it isn't pretty."

"So what do we do?" Miguel breathes deeply.

"I don't know." I open the Connor Project page on my phone. Evan's photo's been taken down, now it's just Alana and Jared, the guy I talked to. And of course, Connor. Connor everywhere. I see that they've met their goal for the apple orchard, but I barely register it.

"I think we need to find one of these people." I show the pictures of Alana and Jared. "One of them or Evan. How, I don't know. But that's the only way I can think of to get answers." Miguel nods, and types a destination into his phone before connecting it to the aux. Waffle House.

"Have you had breakfast?" I shake my head. "Me either. Let's go." I turn the keys, and turn out of the parking lot back onto the road. I don't have much to go on, but I'll find someone. I have to.


	13. Waffle House, Mom Gym, and Jared Kleinman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided to write a whole bunch and then probably drop of the face of the Earth for a little while so enjoy :) Also strict canon? What's that?

By the time Miguel and I are seated in a booth at Waffle House the excitement of running away has pretty much worn off. I'm exhausted and starving, and yet I'm pretty much just poking my waffles. Suddenly, now that I'm here seated across from Miguel at a crusty table covered with old syrup, I have no idea what to say. So, temporarily abandoning my waffles, I pull out my phone and open the Connor Project website.

"Alright, let's see where to start," I say. "They have a P.O. box, but I have no idea how often they check it. We could also try places with a lot of people, like the library. Worst case scenario, we could try to find people at school on Monday, but I don't know if I can lay low that long." 

"Yeah... Also we probably shouldn't be strange people lurking around a public high school. School shooters and all that." I nod. 

"I think the P.O. box could be our best bet, but I don't want to wait around there all day. And I'm not so sure about splitting up, I've never really been around here a lot." 

"Ok. Library maybe? I'm pretty sure it's close." Miguel pulls up Google Maps and shows me the library, which is a 2 minute walk. 

"Nice. We can go once we finish our waffles." I finally finish my waffles a little while later and we're off to the library.

The library has free parking, unlike most of this place, so I make a mental note of that and decide to leave my moms' car there. We walk around in the library for a long time, and it's mostly deserted, considering it's 8 am on a Saturday morning. There's the occasional little kid, and one person about my age reading in a corner, wearing a Connor Project tshirt under a jean jacket covered with patches.

Miguel's phone buzzes, disrupting the otherwise silent library. 

"It's my mom, I'll be right back," he tells me as he starts walking towards the library door. I nod. 

Looking around the library once more, I decide to sit by Connor Project shirt kid, see if she can help. Taking a deep breath, I walk over to where she's sitting. She looks up and smiles.

"Um... hey," I say awkwardly. "I'm Aloe."

"I'm Skye. What's up?"

"Um... I saw your shirt... I need help." Skye must sense that I'm serious, because she puts her book down and pats the ground next to her, scootching over to give me room.

"What's up?" she asks. "I like your sweatshirt, by the way." I smile.

"Thanks. Um... do you have online friends?" Skye nods. "Well... this is going to sound crazy, but one of mine was Connor Murphy. Although I didn't know his full name at the time. But I figured it out pretty quickly. And I found out a lot of things about him, and I... it's a long story."

She looks at me and nods, and I spill my guts. About how Miguel tagged me in the post saying Connor was gone. About how we talked on Discord. About all the weird feelings. And how I came here without telling my moms and I keep looking behind my back half expecting to see a cop. About how I want to find Jared or Evan or Alana before it's too late.

"Well, I don't know about Alana," she says. "But I might be able to help you find Jared or Evan."

Jay leads Miguel and I across the street from the library, into a gym full of adult women. We must look pretty out of place here. We're the youngest by a lot, and Skye and I both have dyed hair (mine's short and blue, hers is long and brown with purple tips,) and we're all obviously not wearing workout clothes. But no one even blinks. 

"You think Jared and Evan are here?" I ask Skye.

"My mom comes here a lot and sometimes I sit and draw or watch bootlegs and Jared and Evan are here a lot. They don't notice me, though." Miguel and I glance at each other behind her back.

"Do they work out?"

"Nope. They mostly just argue."

We walk through the lobby and towards the back, and that's when I see a lone figure, sitting on his phone. Glasses, some sort of tshirt with a chicken on it (was that a hot sauce logo?) and shorts in 55 degree weather. Unmistakably Jared Kleinman.

"Um... hey..." Jared looks up quickly and shoves his phone in his pocket. 

"What do you want?" He looks up at us angrily, and I instinctively take a step back. His eyes are slightly red... has he been crying?

"I'm Aloe... we chatted awhile back... Connor's friend..."

"Oh... right." Jared still seems pissed at me. I also genuinely can't tell when he's being sarcastic and when he isn't. 

"And I'm also Connor's... friend," Miguel says. 

"Let me guess," Jared glares at us. "You figured it out. The big puzzle. Why don't the letters make sense? And now you've come to _me_ for answers."

"Yeah, pretty much," Skye says.

"Who are you?" he asks.

"The kid who's been hanging out at the same gym as you and Evan Hansen for the last month or so," she responds. "Also I go to your school. I'm in the musical. We performed at assembly yesterday." Jared blinks, and I see something run through his brain.

"Um... I wasn't there."

"Oh."

"Yeah.

"So... Jared, if you don't mind... I really need to know what happened to Connor." I swallow hard. Jared hesitates.

"Why should I tell you?"

"We were friends, remember?"

"How do I know you aren't lying?" Jared stands up angrily. "Everyone wants to rewrite the story once it's over. Everyone cares more about a dead person than the ones standing right in front of them. Or you just want to egg the Murpheys' house, which I can understand a little I guess."

"Fine." Miguel also stands up, pulls out his phone, scrolls for a few seconds and then shows it to Jared.

"That's Connor... that's the picture they're using."

"Yeah. I know."

"Everyone assumed it was Evan in that photo," Jared tells us.

"You knew it wasn't, though didn't you." 

"Yeah," he confesses. "It doesn't even look like Evan's arm, not to mention they weren't friends. How do I know this isn't photoshopped, though? I'm the tech guy, after all."

"Pull up the original photo," Miguel commands. "It'll match." Jared pulls out his phone, and blinks.

"Alright," he says finally. "I'll tell you. This stays in this gym, though, you understand?" I nod, and force myself to breathe. I'm finally getting answers.

Half an hour later, the four of us are sitting in a circle on the ground, as Jared finishes his story.

"So the original letter was Evan's... to himself," Miguel concludes. "And then you two faked the rest."

"Basically, yeah," Jared says. "It sounds pretty sketcy when you say it out loud like that, but..."

"It is kind of sketcy," Skye says, raising her eyebrows at him. 

"Don't worry, we won't tell anyone," Miguel says. "We just needed to know."

"I'll also keep a secret," Skye says. "So you don't have to worry about me."

"Alright," Jared says. He stands up and seems like he's getting ready to leave. "Bye, guys." We all wave awkwardly and start to stand up.

"I have to run, guys, I've got a show tonight," Skye starts walking backwards towards the door. "Good luck."

"Thanks," I say.

Miguel and I start the walk back to the library where my moms' car is.

"That was... a lot to take in," he says slowly.

"Yeah. You gonna be ok?"

"Yep." He takes a deep breath in. "I'm going to be fine."

"Cool."

"Cool."

We walk back to the car in comfortable silence.


End file.
